


walk the golden skies, rise above-

by loosingletters



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Battle of Mustafar is Its Own Warning, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Slavery, Wingfic, Wings, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24861124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosingletters/pseuds/loosingletters
Summary: Darth Vader’s wings were massive metallic blades, clicking eerily with his every move. It was impossible to ignore the whirling sound of the machinery that made them functional. Vader’s wings were terror, they looked like bones encased in durasteel coffins.They were nothing like Anakin Skywalker’s.In a world where Force-sensitive people have wings, Anakin Skywalker still burns. (But before that, he rises above them all.)
Relationships: Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 29
Kudos: 294





	walk the golden skies, rise above-

**Author's Note:**

  * For [khapikat222](https://archiveofourown.org/users/khapikat222/gifts), [shatou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatou/gifts).



> Me @ this Fandom: Your main characters are called Skwaylker!!!! Where are all your wingfics???
> 
> So I wrote my own. Dedicated to the wonderful artists who motivated me to finish my fanfiction!

The first thing Qui-Gon Jinn noticed about the boy were his massive wings. He was young still, probably couldn’t even fly yet, but despite the complicated leather restraints on his back, there was no hiding the size of the black wings. Qui-Gon’s wings were on the larger side, as were those of his Padawan, but he was fairly sure that if the boy reached maturity, he’d surpass them both without trying.

Qui-Gon furthermore doubted that would be the case if the boy were to remain on Tatooine as a slave. He was small and underweight, his wings dragged through the ground behind him when he walked and many feathers were broken or missing. Regardless, Qui-Gon _knew_ that Anakin Skywalker was meant to be a Jedi, the same way his mother should have been going by her wingspan. Her light brown feathers had been clipped, she likely wouldn’t ever be able to fly again. Those without the Force, whose wings were so small they could only ever dream of flying, could never understand what precious thing was stolen from those who could.

“You should be very proud of your son,” he told Shmi Skywalker. “He gives without any thought of reward.”

“Well, he knows nothing of greed,” Shmi replied. Her voice had a sharp edge, almost bitter.

Anakin had been born and raised a slave, he didn’t know anything about freedom or being greedy when he’d never been allowed to act on such thoughts. It was sad that such gentle behavior hadn’t been taught but forced upon him by circumstances.

“He has a good heart,” she continued, fiddling with the small white feather hanging from her necklace. In the sunlight, it almost flickered gold.

“He is strong in the Force.”

It was a miracle Anakin was still with his mother. While Jedi used wingspan as a rough determiner of Force-strengths, other cultures had different opinions on why every intelligent species grew wings. Everybody agreed though that those who stuck out of the masses were special.

“I’ve noticed, his wings are much darker than yours. Who was his father?”

Force strength was an inheritable trait. Certainly, if Shmi and his other parent were so strong, maybe that would explain Anakin’s exceptionality.

“There was no father,” Shmi said. “I carried him, I gave birth, I raised him, but I can’t explain what happened.”

The midichlorian count the test provided after only confirmed what Qui-Gon already knew. Anakin wasn’t just strong of the Force, he existed because of it. He was the Chosen One, destined to bring balance to the Force. That night, while he was sleeping in the Skywalker’s house, he dreamed of a man with black wings and woke up haunted by the feeling that a new era was upon them.

_(Qui-Gon never lived long enough to know that Anakin’s wings were anything but black.)_

X

Obi-Wan Kenobi was the one who cut through the leather cords restricting Anakin’s wings. He was also the first to see how truly massive the black feathers were. He was a little surprised to notice that in-between all the black another color, a lighter one, stood out when Qui-Gon had only described wings as dark as space. Trust his Master to make a mistake concerning precise details.

However, Obi-Wan was not the first to notice that Anakin Skywalker’s wings were not, in fact, even mainly black. He wasn’t even the second or third or fourth person. No, he was the _tenth_ person to be informed of that and likely wouldn’t have even been number ten if his Padawan hadn’t had a panic attack in the Halls of Healing because too many Jedi were crowding around him. Another apprentice had come to pick Obi-Wan up, urging him to leave his final exam behind and come see to his Padawan immediately.

When Obi-Wan arrived in the Halls, he found Anakin sitting in the corner of a room, his wings curled around him so that you actually couldn’t see the little Padawan.

“What is going on here?” Obi-Wan asked and marched promptly through the Masters assembled in the room. Any other time he probably would have thrown a fuss at the utter disrespect he was showing Council members, but if Ki-Adi-Mundi decided that towering over his obviously overwhelmed Padawan, then Obi-Wan was going to tell him off.

He planted himself between Anakin and the other members, his arms crossed and his back turned to Anakin. Something touched his leg and he glanced down long enough to see black primary feathers brushing against him.

“Your Padawan was found ripping out his own feathers,” Vokara Che said seriously.

Obi-Wan slowly let out his breath and forced himself to not start cursing. He knew Anakin tended to do that. On Tatooine, it had been better to take out broken feathers than to attempt healing them and risk infection. He’d been shocked the first time he had caught Anakin doing it, but he thought Anakin had understood that it was unnecessary after their talk.

Obi-Wan decided to turn around to his Padawan and crouched down in front of him. He spread his own fiery red wings to give Anakin a sense of protection.

“Padawan,” he began to say. “Everything’s alright. You know you don’t have to take out your damaged feathers, we can heal them. And if we can’t, you certainly don’t have to deal with it on your own.”

“His feathers weren’t damaged,” Vokara said. “But their color-“

“Please don’t send me away!” Anakin suddenly blurted out. He opened up his wings, almost sending Obi-Wan toppling over, and threw himself at him. “Please, I promise I’ll behave. I just couldn’t get any japor oil and keep it hidden. I promise I’ll do better, please keep me-“

“Slow down Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “And you’re my Padawan. You’re not going anywhere without me. Everything is alright.”

He tried to blend out all the Masters in the room with them. He gathered the Force around himself, grounded the two of them and calmed. He had to keep a cool head for Anakin. Obi-Wan could have his own private freak out when he was back in his own room away from too many Jedi who thought he shouldn't be teaching Anakin.

“But- but I couldn’t keep it hidden!” Anakin stuttered.

“Keep what hidden?” Obi-Wan asked carefully.

Anakin bit his lip, then he pushed his hands, curled to fists, into Obi-Wan’s and opened them, revealing soft and small feathers that likely would have grown into covert feathers, had Anakin not ripped them out. What shocked Obi-Wan the most about them though was not the dried blood clinging to them, but the brilliant golden shine.

“Are those yours?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin nodded. “Mom always made me drink japor oil so they wouldn’t grow in that color. If _Masters_ knew I had big wings and golden ones, they’d have taken me away.”

Obi-Wan could see it in startling clarity. A small boy, much younger than Anakin was now, being ripped out of his mother’s arms so they could take his wings.

He felt like throwing up.

“They’re beautiful,” Obi-Wan told his Padawan earnestly. “You don’t have to hide them here, I promise.”

“Really?” Anakin’s eyes darted to the Jedi standing behind them.

“Yes.”

Anakin looked down at his hands, before he lifted his head once more, hesitant determination taking over. “You can keep those. They were the first to grow back.”

_(On Tatooine, the only people you gave your feathers to were family members. Obi-Wan wouldn’t know this until Beru stood on his doorstep, Luke sleeping soundly in her arms, and quietly asked him to accept the fledgling feathers she handed him and to give Luke one of his in turn.)_

X

It took almost two years until even the last of the black feathers was gone. Likely, it would have taken even longer if Anakin didn’t have a knack for getting injured and breaking off feathers that just happened to be the black ones. Anakin’s wings at thirteen were certainly a sight to behold. They seemed to reflect the light, their gold shining almost white in the illuminated meditation halls while they took on a fiery red color when Anakin was sun basking in the highest towers, the evening light hitting him just right. Even though Anakin was already a Padawan and had been for years, he still couldn’t fly. He never seemed to have enough space to unfold his wings completely before he crashed to the ground again.

“This is a terrible idea,” Aayla muttered.

She liked Anakin, he was fun and not so much of a stuck up as other Padawans his age. Besides, their Masters were befriended, though Aayla wasn’t so sure if her Master hadn’t just dragged Obi-Wan into his life and declared them friends. It certainly sounded like something he would do.

“But you can catch me, can’t you?” Anakin asked as he peeked over the railing of the highest tower.

The thing was, Aayla got it. She couldn’t recall much from her time before she’d been taken in by the Jedi. She’d been four already, on the older side of the scale when it came to younglings, but those four years hadn’t been enough for Aayla to keep all her memories. Still, she remembered the fear and pain from all those whose wings had been big enough that they might be able to fly whose wings had as a consequence, been clipped, forever denying them flight. Amongst slaves, being able to fly was the greatest ability.

Of course the inability to do so hurt Anakin.

“I’m sure it’ll work,” Anakin said, took a running leap and jumped off the tower.

Aayla followed him quickly, her own light blue wings flattering steadily as she watched Anakin trying to catch himself in the wind. For one very terrifying moment Aayla thought he wouldn’t make it, and then Anakin began to _rise_. The strokes of his wings were immediately powerful and likely just as exhausting, but he was flying.

Watching him soar in the sky told Aayla all she needed to know. Anakin had been born for this. She loathed to imagine what would have become of his wings if he hadn’t been brought to the temple, even if she had to suffer through a stern talking to after Anakin's first flight for letting a junior Padawan attempt such recklessness.

_(It wasn’t_ the _reason Aayla kept quiet about the clones whose wings started to grow larger than those of their brothers, but it was one of them. She helped them hide, she let them use bacta to heal the cuts they had to make.)_

X

Out of all of Padmé’s handmaidens, Eirtaé was the one with the largest wings. They weren’t tall next to those of the Jedi, but they were the biggest Padmé had ever seen. Her own were small by comparison, could fit easily beneath the tunics they wore to hide them away entirely. Sabé’s wings on the other hand were the most similar to Padmé’s. They were bright red as well, though a shade darker. It was the reason she was Padmé’s main decoy. If kidnappers thought to check beyond facial recognitions, they’d find what they expected.

It certainly helped them when the Trade Federation staged their assault.

Padmé still remembered how fascinated she had been by the Jedi. Even when she had been sick with worry for her family and her planet, she had been curious about the Jedi.

Everybody whose wings were large enough to fly could be a Jedi, or so they said, but that knowledge hadn’t truly settled in until she’d seen Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi for the first time.

Now, looking at Anakin, all grown up and somehow still the kind boy she recalled, Padmé wasn’t sure if she had truly understood it back then when people spoke of Jedi and their unnaturally large wings.

“Ani?” Padmé asked, unable to hide her astonishment. “My goodness, you’ve grown. And your wings!”

For all that Anakin was obviously trying not to take up too much space, his treasure golden wings were already blocking off the area they were standing in. She wanted to ask him about their color change, whether that was a part of being a Jedi or something special and inherently Anakin Skywalker. He blushed and smiled sheepishly.

“So have you... grown more beautiful, I mean! And, eh, much shorter... for a Senator, I mean.”

He was fumbling through his words, but it was endearing nevertheless. Padmé still resented the fuss they were throwing about the attacks on her. She was not a helpless little girl. She had never been allowed to be such with the weight of millions of lives on her shoulders. But perhaps she could stand being protected by two Jedi if it were those two.

_(In the future every time she looked at Anakin’s prosthesis, she’d hate herself a little. She knew Anakin picked up on it, but didn’t know how to hide or communicate that it wasn’t him she was uncomfortable with. Padmé simply blamed herself for his pain.)_

X

Anakin’s mother had been a slave with a considerably large wingspan. She had been stolen away from her family when she was six. She had been too young to fly then, but when she’d been eleven, she had dared to stand on the rooftop of her Master’s house and wonder whether she would be able to fly if she just jumped and spread her wings. When her Master had spotted her, he had screeched and pulled her away from the edge. He and another group of men had pushed her to the ground and tore at her wings until a loud crack had resonated through the air. Shmi had been screaming, begging and crying then. She wouldn’t have jumped. She hadn’t known the first thing about flying and there was still a detonator in her body that would blow her up as soon as she went too far away.

The men hadn’t cared of course. They had broken her wings and watched in satisfaction as they healed wrongly.

She’d never be able to fly again. They had clipped her wings. Perhaps in Republic space, they’d be able to save them, but nobody would waste such expenses on a slave.

Years later when the Tuskens took her, Shmi was unable to fight them off or reach the skies for freedom. It should have been obvious to them from the angle her wings rested against her back that she might be a Skywalker but she’d never be able to walk the skies, and yet they hadn’t cared and violated her so cruelly for the second time in her life.

Her only relief before her death was seeing the golden color she had last laid her eyes upon almost two decades ago. Her son was free, wasn’t forced to bind or dye his wings.

_(Shmi Skywalker didn’t die peacefully. Her body gave up on her after enduring weeks of torture. Hatred lingered in her bones. It was forged into the marrow of every slave, it gave them endurance beyond their nature, but even hatred ran out. In the end, the only kind thing she could feel was the love for her son.)_

X

The first time Anakin saw Padmé’s wings were in that horrible arena on Geonosis. His mind was still full of grief for his mother, the fear for his Master and the horrible guilt eating away at him.

Padmé’s shirt tore, revealing red wings. They reminded Anakin of the robes she’d worn a decade ago when they recaptured Theed first, then of Obi-Wan’s wings second. But where Obi-Wan’s wings were the red of sunset, sunrise, and fires, Padmé’s carried victory, passion and love in its most extreme forms.

They were not enough to carry her as she fell out of the ship and Anakin was once more forced to watch, his heart screaming.

_(Anakin knew most people were fascinated by his wings. He had never met or seen another sentient with the same coloring, but he decided then and there, in the aftermath of the beginning of the end, that red was his favorite color. He wouldn’t mind seeing it for the rest of his life.)_

X

CT-7567, Captain Rex, hadn’t known what to expect of the Jedi that would lead him and his brothers. He had certainly heard several things from the other troops so far. They spoke of reckless warriors, flying through blaster fire without any regard for their own health, as long as they could make sure that the war ended a little sooner, that more sentients were saved.

Rex’s wings fit neatly beneath his armor.

He knew it wasn’t always the case.

There were brothers the Kaminoans decommissioned early on because their wings developed too fast, too large. Rex’s were standard, the same brown and white mustering, hardly noticeable when he forced them beneath his undersuit. Rex had never wanted bigger wings unlike some of his batchmates who had quietly exchanged thoughts about how neat it would be to fly. The advantaged they’d have in battle would be much larger.

Rex hadn’t seen the point right up until Commander Skywalker and yelled _“Down!”_ and a huge shadow had settles over their heads. Rex and his brothers were pushed down by the massive weight of Skywalker’s wings.

The dust, dirt, and blood clinging to them didn’t do anything to diminish their shine and Rex found himself caught off-guard.

_(He’d freeze a second time like this when yet another Commander Skywalker would push them down to the ground to save them.)_

X

The war carried on. It took its toll. Suffering became apparent in every corner of the galaxy. People were tortured, cried out in pain and slowly but steadily suffocated on their own hopelessness.

Sidious hummed in content.

The miasma in the air, the taint as the Jedi would call it, was the finest treat. The dark side was growing stronger every day and soon victory would be his.

“You wanted to see me, Chancellor?”

Sidious smiled friendly as he took in the sight of his young apprentice. Anakin Skywalker was truly a gift of the Force. He was incredibly strong and would be Sidious’s greatest tool in the creation of his Empire.

The boy’s wings were a hindrance of course, but not one that couldn’t be dealt with as soon as he fell. Sidious had cut off his wings himself. His Master had been impressed, falsely assuming that Sidious had done so to please him. He had let Plagueis believe whatever he wanted. Sidious had merely taken his fate in his own hands. He wasn’t going to rely on another to complete the ritual that would truly open his mind to the dark side of the Force.

“Anakin, my dear boy,” Sidious said. “I am so glad to see you.”

_(And Sidious would be celebrating when he came to mold Vader into his weapon. Kenobi had truly given him a gift, ruining his Padawan’s wings himself.)_

X

The thing Ahsoka hated the most about being stuck on the Resolute was the lack of space. She had large wings and could only practice flying in the hangers. While the clones laughed and whistled when she did her spins, she knew she was actually disturbing them and interrupting their work. The non-clone officials on board certainly thought so. Ahsoka thought that if it were just Jedi and clones together, they wouldn’t have any problems, but as soon as the rest of the military or politicians got involved, the fun was over.

Ahsoka stretched her wings and winced when she hit the side of a cabinet with them. There was simply no space anywhere!

“Master,” Ahsoka complained on the training mats. “How do you do it?”

Anakin stopped carefully treading his hands through her feathers. “Do what?”

“Stand the space! The Temple is so much wider. I can’t wait to be back home. Or planetside, whatever comes first, I guess.”

Ahsoka craned her neck so she’d be able to look at her Master’s face. He was smiling only slightly. Far more prominent was his frown and the way his mech-hand twitched. The first time she had seen her Master look like that, they’d been on Tatooine.

“It’s just a matter of getting used to,” Anakin finally answered. “And to your luck, we already have a new mission taking us to a planet that is covered by cliffs and canyons.”

Forgotten about her Master’s behavior, Ahsoka fist-pumped the air. “Yes!”

The last time they had had the chance, she had gone cliff diving with her Master. It had been awesome, just like jumping from the Temple towers. Ahsoka couldn’t wait to do it again.

Then, suddenly, Ahsoka winced as Anakin tugged at one of the feathers she’s injured in the last fight. “Skyguy! That hurt!”

“Sorry,” Anakin apologized, and soothingly ran his hand over her back. “I don’t think this feather is salvageable.”

Ahsoka sighed. She’d already asked Kix if he could help her, but he had given her the same reply. She had hoped Anakin would be able to heal it.

“Is it a pretty one?” Ahsoka asked.

“Yes.”

She looked up again at her Master and the three feathers he kept braided into his hair. One was Obi-Wan’s, the other belonged to Ahsoka and the third, a light brown one, she didn’t know. Anakin had never really told her why he did it, only muttered something about traditions from his homeworld. The precise reason didn't matter, Ahsoka decided, as long as she knew that it meant she was important to him.

“You can switch it out against my old one then,” she decided and watched happily as he did so.

_(Later, she’d wish she had asked her Master what it really meant when your wings were restrained. Zygerria left its scars on them in more than one way. In the aftermath, Anakin ensured Ahsoka would have plenty of space to unfurl her wings, but she never forgot the feeling of the heavy leather cords covering her white wings. As Fulcrum, she didn't know whether that experience was a blessing or a curse.)_

X

When Anakin killed Dooku, his wings felt like a dead weight right up until he was back in Padmé’s arms. He was exhausted and hurting, but with her as the center of his world, everything would be alright. With Dooku dead, it was only a question of time until the war was over. He’d resign from the Order and move to Naboo with Padmé where they’d raise their child together. Obi-Wan could visit them and maybe they could track down Ahsoka as well, wrangle her into the flying lessons their child would undoubtedly need.

“Oh?” Padmé asked playfully as they fell into their bed. “So sure our son is going to take after you?”

Anakin smiled and pulled the blanket over them both before covering them additionally with his feathers.

“Our _daughter_ ,” he said, his emphasis not going unnoticed, “will absolutely take after me.”

“Alright, alright.” Padmé laughed. “Let’s just hope they don’t decide to learn how to fly by jumping off a building.”

Anakin pulled a face. Retrospectively, perhaps Obi-Wan had been right to lecture him with an ashen face after Anakin’s brilliant – and successful! – attempt at learning how to fly by jumping off a tower. Imagining his own child pulling a stunt like that was terrifying. Ahsoka had already known how to fly when she’d been assigned to Anakin. He hadn’t had to worry about her.

“They won’t,” Anakin mumbled. “We’ll all be there.”

_(Princess Leia of Alderaan had been ten when she decided she wanted to fly. She hadn’t cared about the fact that it was as good as a death sentence if an Imperial knew you had the ability. Dressed only in her nightgown, standing on the balcony of their vacation estate high up in the mountains, Leia took a leap of faith. Halfway across the galaxy, a boy threw himself off the cliffs in Beggar’s Canyon in the exact same moment and for the split of a second, they connected.)_

X

It wasn’t an easy choice, it was no choice at all.

It was over a decade of careful grooming, a Sith Lord running his hands over golden feathers, pretending to help preen the spaces Anakin could never reach on his own. It were the lies, the distrust, the pain, all the mistakes, anger and frustration and a childhood bound in chains Anakin had never been able to break entirely.

He needed to save Padmé and his unborn child. He had to protect them from harm, his nightmares come alive, so he took his ‘saber and marched to the temple, his army at his back.

_(Some of their shots hit his wings, but in the void darkness of the Force, Vader didn’t even register it. He didn’t think of the younglings that used to beg him for lessons or let out delighted shrieks when he submitted to their pleas and let them brush through his feathers and keep the ones that broke off or came loose. He didn’t think because he was drowning, choking on his own tears, hoping it would all be over soon.)_

X

Vader could hardly fly on Mustafar. It gave Obi-Wan a considerable advantage, but he had trained Anakin to be able to handle any possible disadvantage. He tried not to linger on the thoughts of his former Padawan, the boy he had raised and adored, as he battled the Sith Lord in front of him. The ashes of the volcanic planet settled on their wings, dragging them down until Ana- _not Anakin, his brother was dead, Sidious had ruined him_ , until Vader was lying on the ground, screaming. He was tearing at the remnants of their bond, sharp claws tried to cut into Obi-Wan’s mind.

He wanted to reach out. He wanted Anakin back.

“You were my brother Anakin! I _loved_ you!”

And if he were a better Jedi, he wouldn’t have watched Vader’s torment but taken his blade and ended the Sith’s life.

_(But he couldn’t. He had told Yoda that he wouldn’t be able to kill him and he couldn’t bear to linger as he watched the once so beautiful golden wings burn.)_

X

In the aftermath, while Yoda told Bail what to expect when raising a Force-sensitive child and how to hide little Leia’s presence, Obi-Wan sat curled up in the corner of the space station, holding both children close his chest. It should be no surprise that they’d take after Anakin, and yet Obi-Wan had been shocked still when he’d seen the soft gold color of their wings. He knew they wouldn’t keep their color for long, likely never actually see it themselves.

Alderaan’s royalty ate white hibiscus flowers that dyed their wings the same color and Luke would be fed japor oil on Tatooine as Anakin had once been.

Nobody would ever know that these children had survived and lived. They would be safe.

_(On his way to Tatooine, Obi-Wan took great care that nobody saw his own red feathers or Luke’s golden ones. It didn’t occur to him that he’d be better off tainting his wings as well until he actually arrived on the doorstep of the Lars homestead.)_

X

When Vader woke up again for the first time, even Sidious was surprised at the level of pain, fury, rage and despair that was tearing at the Sith’s mind.

Traditionally, Vader’s wings would have to be cut down, but it would prove much more futile if that darkness engulfing Vader wasn’t allowed to lower.

“Put him under again,” Sidious ordered.

The Jedi were either already dead or dying. It was only a question of time and the dark side taught patience so very well. Sidious didn’t have to concern himself with his Empire for a moment, no, he could focus on his apprentice fully.

His wings weren’t _entirely_ ruined. The bones still remained, as did some feathers.

“Keep the skeleton,” Sidious mused as he imagined what he wanted his Lord Vader to look like. “Encase them in metal. Give my apprentice wings befitting of his station.”

Skywalker was dead. There would be no more Jedi claiming the skies for themselves and putting their precious light above Sidious’s throne and Vader would spent his every second remembering it through pain.

X

Force-sensitive people didn’t just stop being born because the Empire willed it so, but more children died or lost their wings in infancy than ever before.

It would be a lie to say that the few Jedi that remained didn’t consider mutilating themselves for protection.

What use were wings if you could never fly again unless you wanted to risk your life?

And yet there were enough who treasured the gifts they had been given, always hoping and reaching for a future where the darkness would cease dragging them down.

X

When Obi-Wan decided to die for the galaxy’s future, his wings were as black as his Padawan’s once had been when he was young and Obi-Wan had hoped to never see the color again.

Luke and Leia looked like two halves of the same being, not just physically but also in the Force. Obi-Wan was relieved to see how strong they were, already connecting and reaching out despite being unaware of their relationship. Separating them when they were young had been the right decision. Vader would have found them too soon.

Now all Obi-Wan could do was focus on the opponent in front of him, let all hope escape.

He had been aware of Vader’s presence ever since he had stepped on this monstrosity of a weapon. It mirrored Vader’s appearance all too well. Obi-Wan had heard stories about Vader had made out of himself, but seeing it in person almost took him back to Mustafar and the smell of burning flesh.

Darth Vader’s wings were massive metallic blades, clicking eerily with his every move. It was impossible to ignore the whirling sound of the machinery that made them functional. Vader’s wings were terror, they looked like bones encased in durasteel coffins.

They were nothing like Anakin Skywalker’s.

The wingspan was the same, larger than anybody else’s, but that was where the similarities ended. These wings had never covered an entire squad of troopers to protect them from debris, they had never been touched by something that wasn’t blood and gore. They looked as unnatural as they felt.

They were what horrified Obi-Wan Kenobi the most about his former apprentice’s appearance. He used to be so proud of Anakin’s beautiful golden wings, had spent hours helping his young charge groom them until Anakin had fallen asleep, his much too large wings draped over Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

_(This would haunt him past his own death until he could run his fingers through golden feathers again. He had stood aside as Anakin’s wings, his soul, had burned on the shores of Mustafar and he had turned away.)_

X

Luke Skywalker stood out in every room he was in. It wasn’t just his ridiculously large wing size, he simply seemed to draw people in. Leia especially enjoyed being near him. He knew all about the rumors crawling around their bases about the two of them and had Leia not been raised a princess, she would have thrown at least one punch.

Spending time with Luke reminded Leia of all the times she had been able to spend lazy mornings with her family. It felt like coming home, a balm that calmed the phantom pains that had haunted her since her childhood.

She was the first to see that Luke’s black wings were as much of a lie as her white ones. Leia hadn’t had any of the white flower tea since her imprisonment on the Death Star and she wasn’t used to grooming her wings herself. She knew her wings looked terrible and she knew some of her original color, of which her parents had never informed her, was starting to come through in some cases. Leia kept her wings bound, protection against the Empire, so she hadn’t actually paid as much attention to it until she found Luke staring at a gold feather lying innocently on the floor.

“Is this your original color?” Leia asked him and picked the feather up.

Luke slowly nodded and opened up his wings. The newest feathers stood out against the dark black. They were the same gold as the one in Leia’s hands.

“Yes,” Luke answered. “But that feather isn’t mine.”

With gentle hands he helped her brush through her wings, get rid of all the old and broken feathers she had damaged and hadn’t thought to take care of because she was busy fighting a war.

_(In the end, it was no surprise to learn they were siblings. The Alliance had been calling them their golden twins for years already by then as both had shed their old colors and stopped pretending they hadn’t been made for the skies.)_

X

The memory of Bespin, of clinging to the pole while he was forced to listen to Vader’s wings clicking against the metal railings and horrible truth he revealed, would haunt Luke for years. He injured his left wing while escaping and lost his hand in a fight that never should have happened. Back on Tatooine, his family had always told him not to draw too much attention, that it was dangerous for him, but had gotten so used to flying while he was staying with the Alliance.

If he fell here, he wouldn’t be able to fly away.

He chose to do so anyway, all while begging Ben to tell him why had told him such cruel lies, wondering what kind of person could stand to watch another burn.

_(He had hoped Leia would catch him, but he didn’t expect her to look like a vengeful goddess, the orange and red of the skies reflecting on her wings like blood.)_

X

Darth Vader died the same way he was born, in agonizing pain. He broke out of the Emperor’s hold and Anakin Skywalker took the monster that had enslaved the whole galaxy and killed him with slow, aching breaths. Luke was grieving, trying to drag Anakin’s heavy body down to the ships.

“Luke, help me take this mask off,” Anakin rasped.

Luke’s wings flared up. He’d been informed of their golden color, the same as that of the princess. He hadn’t dared to entertain the thought that perhaps it was not just one child, too afraid of what that would mean for his actions.

“But you’ll die!”

Beneath his mask, Anakin smiled. He didn’t deserve his son who was so kind he could even cry for a broken man like him.

“Nothing can stop that now. Just for once… let me look on you with my own eyes.”

Luke hesitated for a moment, then he slowly pulled the mask of Anakin’s face. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but then he saw his son for the first time. He was beyond stunned how much he looked like Padmé. His wings behind him illuminated the darkness of the hall like the sun.

He was _beautiful_.

All Anakin had dreamed of and more. He was glad that this was the last thing Anakin got to see. Everything would be well, there would be peace.

_(And when death came, Anakin didn’t resist and scream and beg. He smiled, threw himself into Obi-Wan’s arms, the wings on his back lifting him to the skies as he watched the light shine.)_

X

The sun was high in the blue afternoon sky and the air was so thick with excitement, tension, cheer and joy that you could almost taste it on your tongue.

Excitedly, they were all standing at the platform on top of the temple. From up here, they could see the pilots getting their fighters, people going about their day and, most importantly, a rather large group of Knights and Padawans and family members standing below them, cheering.

“Alright, Initiates,” Jedi Master Ezra Bridger said. “Today’s the day. Are you ready?”

“Born ready!” A very bold Trandoshan youngling said while the Togruta boy next to her only eyes the edge of the platform with a vary look.

“This is an age-old tradition,” Ezra continues as he slowly walked backwards. “My Master taught me how to fly like this and the Masters Skywalker and Organa learned how to fly the exact same way.”

The younglings looked at the other two Masters that had accompanied them to the very top, seeking their agreement. Leia stepped away from the back and walked to the front to her brother, letting her wings brush over the heads of the assembled children, causing them to giggle.

“We did learn that way,” Leia said, smiling in amusement. “Only we didn’t have anyone to catch us at the bottom should it go wrong.”

The group looked at the Jedi Master with big eyes. They couldn’t imagine making this jump without anybody ensuring them they’d be saved and would be caught before they hit the ground.

“Don’t worry,” Luke said as he stepped off the platform. “We won’t let you fall.”

_(And no child of this new age did.)_

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, end note!  
> A lot of super cool and amazing people were apparently inspired by the snipper I posted on Tumblr, which in the end motivated me to finish this fanfic! So please go check out:  
> [Anakin, in his element, by shatouto](https://shatouto.tumblr.com/post/620907016076066816/anakin-in-his-element-inspired-by-this-post-by)  
> [Smol Anakin & Knight Anakin by kyber-erso](https://kyber-erso.tumblr.com/post/621624625653301248/i-blame-jasontoddiefor-for-the-wingedanakin)  
> [Darth Vader and his metal wings by khapikat222](https://khapikat222.tumblr.com/post/621595842311307264/darth-vaders-wings-were-massive-metallic-blades)
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! I'd love to hear what you think!


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